


Way more interesting than Thundercats

by TeaTimeAt221B



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Panty Kink, Underage Masturbation, Voyeurism, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:45:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaTimeAt221B/pseuds/TeaTimeAt221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam doesn't mean to listen in on Dean. He's just a little curious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Way more interesting than Thundercats

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me as I was driving home from a Jared and Jensen movie marathon we did for my birthday. I came home and wrote it immediately. So I guess I wrote myself a birthday fic for all of you? Please enjoy!
> 
> Crossposted to tumblr under [sammys-beautiful-bitchface](http://sammys-beautiful-bitchface.tumblr.com)
> 
> Warning: Sam is very underage here. Dean is fifteen which makes Sam about eleven. Just masturbation in this one, but there may be sexual contact between them if I get around to making this a two-parter.

Sam sat in the living room watching TV. Well, trying to watch TV. Thundercats was on and normally he liked Thundercats, but there were much more interesting things happening at the moment. Honest, he was trying to ignore them. He was really trying not to strain to overhear what was going on in the next room.

The rhythmic shifting of the mattress. Breathy, feminine moans. Deep groans, grunts and indistinct murmurs that might be words. _Saying what?_ Sam didn’t know. Sam’s eyes, though, were wide and seeing straight through the television, his breath coming quick and an ache in his groin like sometimes happened when Dad fell asleep and couldn’t reach over to cover little Sammy’s eyes when there were naked women in a movie.

Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew what his brother was doing in there. At least, he was pretty sure he knew. It had something to do with sex, that mysterious thing that kids giggled about, that adults couched in euphemisms. It had something to do with that feeling he got when he rubbed his palm over his little cock when Dad and Dean were sleeping, the shivery-good release that made him feel all jelly-limbs and sated for sleep. He knew Dean did it too, had even caught him at it a couple times when Dean thought he was sleeping; listened to his brother’s muffled pants and whimpers so close beside him in bed, so close he could feel his warmth, could reach out and touch – but sex was mystery, sex was Not For Kids, and moments like this were magical, outside of reality. Sammy didn’t want to risk breaking moments like this, but would rather ride them out, store them up, and save them for later.

So he sat stock still and staring, pretending to watch Thundercats when really his ears were perked up and straining for every noise he could hear from behind that door, every secret detail. Finally the bed stopped shifting, the moaning quieted down. Sam quickly adjusted himself so his arousal wouldn’t be noticed and acted casual when the bedroom door opened, and Dean and his girl came out.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean called conversationally. Sam didn’t turn fully around, just turned his head a bit and peeked out of the corner of his eye. Dean had a satisfied, cocky look about him, and his arm was around the girl – sixteen or seventeen to Dean’s fifteen, if Sam had to guess, with bleached highlights in her auburn hair and a grey ruffled skirt that brushed her thighs. Sam tried to smile. “I’m gonna take, uh, Kayla here home, all right? I’ll be back. Stay out of trouble. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge if you get hungry.” He slipped Sam a wink and whisked the girl out the door, leaving Sam alone with the Thundercats. And a hard-on.

And the room.

Sam’s eyes slid to the bedroom door, open a crack. He bit his lip, thinking about secret sounds, mysterious adult things that happened behind that door. Thinking about moans, grunts, whispers. Before he knew it he was standing up from the couch, nerves tingling and senses on high alert. Dean would be gone for a while, he reasoned. Unless he forgot something. But that was unlikely. Sam was probably safe. He walked on tiptoes anyway and gently pushed the door open to step inside.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Unfamiliar, having grown up with Dad and Dean; there was the familiar Dean smell underneath, but threaded through it was the heavy, musky scent of a woman. Sam felt giddy. He crept closer to the bed, blankets and sheets all askew and piled haphazardly around. _This is where it happened,_ he thought with awe and some trepidation. Somehow he resisted the urge to bend down and _smell,_ that idea prompting a wave of embarrassment to roll through him that almost sent him running back out the door – but then he saw it.

Peeking out from the pile of bedding. A strip of lacy, black fabric.

Heart pounding, Sam leaned over the bed, one knee on the mattress, and snagged it with his finger. Dragged it out.

Black, silky panties. Fancy lace around the trim. Little tiny pink bows on either side, like where the hipbones go.

Sam’s breathing was heavy now, heart like a jackhammer in his chest. These were _girls’_ panties, like on the Victoria’s Secret ads that Dean kept stashed in the bottom of his duffle. These were what girls wore to look sexy. More importantly, these were what _that particular girl_ was wearing to look sexy for Dean, when they – 

Sam turned them over in his hands, inspecting them. Felt a pulse in his groin when he touched something, a tiny spot of slick on the crotch – _oh my god_ – this was too much, way too much. He swallowed, throat thick, cock achingly hard now and making its own slick spot on his boxers.

He darted a look over his shoulder. How long had Dean been gone? Five minutes? Ten? He’d completely lost track of time. He should get out of the room now, felt like every instinct was screaming at him that he’d pushed his luck too far, but the panties were clutched tight in his hand, and all he could think about was Dean’s self-satisfied smirk and his arm around that girl’s slim waist, that panty-wearing girl.

Maybe. Just maybe.

Did he dare?

Slowly, as if in a dream, Sam worked down his shorts and boxers, moaning when his heated flesh was exposed to the open air. He touched himself briefly, just a flicker of fingers over the shaft and head, smearing through precome. God, he didn’t think he’d ever been this hard, ever felt this hot and urgent. He unfolded the panties from his fist and stepped into them, one foot, two, and up over milky smooth thighs. Young boy thighs, that could almost be girl thighs. He moaned louder this time when the silky fabric snugged up under his sac, cradled his cock. The fancy lace decorated his slim boy hips and he had never felt so pretty and sexy in his life.

He wanted desperately to see himself in a mirror, but he didn’t want to leave this secret room. He couldn’t break the moment. Instead he gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, then lay back, skin against the sheets and one hand twisted in the blankets where his brother had just fucked some girl, and his thighs parted, a gasp left his lips as he stroked himself through the panties. He was throbbing hard, getting the panties all wet with his precome, the silky fabric sliding up and down on his shaft. Sam’s moans came louder and louder as his mind replayed all the wonderful secret sex-sounds coming from in here earlier, Dean’s sounds of pleasure, and the girl’s ecstasy as Dean worked her over with skill.

He didn’t hear the front door open.

He didn’t hear Dean as he walked in and pushed the door to the bedroom open the rest of the way.

But he certainly heard Dean when he stopped short, eyes wide and hand clapped over his mouth as he rasped _“Oh, fuck, Sammy.”_


End file.
